


constant as a northern star

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Winter, soft and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: “Wow, okay,” Mitch says, as the wind blows his hood off. He brings it back up, then pulls at the drawstrings until only his nose is visible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ftchocoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftchocoholic/gifts).



> none of this is real! if you know anyone who is mentioned in this story, please close it! 
> 
> title from "a case of you" by joni mitchell.

Auston loves the character of wind.

It drowns out everything else with this low, sweeping roar, pushes him, surrounds him, turns him into something so small, something that could get swept up and knocked down, but doesn’t. He wants to let it, sometimes; he thinks it could be a fun thing to get lost in it.

But Auston knows he doesn’t get to get lost in some things, so he breathes in, stands strong.

*

It’s the sunshine that Auston is powerless to.

It’s not the inescapable, dry, desert heat, even with the way it burns on the back of his neck, the way it makes his skin flake traitorously while he chirps the other boys for coming back from their vacations bright red, except for Zach and Willy, but Zach’s the kind of person who reapplies his sunscreen as directed, and Willy’s got just enough vanity in him to keep his skin flawless. Mitch, on the other hand, comes back with redness high on his cheeks, and on the tip of his nose, and it’s much cuter than it has any right to be.

“Fuck, man, this hurts,” Mitch says, crinkling his face, and Auston is overcome with the urge to push his nose like it’s a button. He doesn’t, even though he thinks Mitch would probably laugh at it, startled and delighted.

“It also causes skin cancer,” Auston says. “Put aloe on it.”

“I did. I used sunblock, too,” Mitch says.

“Some people just burn easier than others,” Auston says.

Auston is not one of those people, not when the sun is everywhere, day in and day out.

*

The real sunshine – the real problem – is temperate days in the middle of rough winters, unexpected spots of brightness that make him smile despite himself the second he gets outside. Those are days that decide to be good, to be welcoming, to be a reward just because. Everyone’s a little lighter on those days, unused to not wearing their heavy coats, sporting sweaters and jackets that are beloved, but limited to the more transitional seasons. It’s like a bonus, a gem, a small gift, and that’s when Auston will go for a longer run than usual, or if he can, drive outside the city and sit quietly by the water, letting himself recharge, soak it all in, and then he’ll burn a little, where no one notices.

Sometimes it’s not even warm, just sunny, and until he moved to Toronto, Auston hadn't known what it was like to stare at his feet because the light reflects off the piles of snow too brightly.

*

It’s raining, and Mitch’s feet are in Auston’s lap.

“I don’t wanna go out for dinner,” he’s saying.

Auston shrugs, easy, doesn’t think about the way he’s circling Mitch’s ankle with his thumb. “We could order in.”

Mitch hums in agreement. “That sounds nice.”

The rain beats down a little harder against the window, and Auston’s heart beats louder as Mitch grabs at the velvety blanket draped over the back of his couch.

In the hour before the food comes, they watch two and a half episodes of _Friends,_ Mitch almost falls asleep, and Auston feels the warmth of Mitch's skin and the softness of the blanket at once. Neither of them really moves.

The moment is small, lazy, sacred.

*

The summer shines, but the winter twinkles, all fairy-lit and gentle.

“We should go on the ferris wheel again,” Mitch says, elbowing Auston.

Last year, Auston had been scared of the winter, had been freezing and terrified at the way the wind bit at his face, and at the way Mitch laughed, raucous and ungraceful and lovely. This year, Auston is wearing an actual heavy winter coat, and he likes the weight of it on him.

“For sure,” he says, and he smiles, a little bit.

It’s still cold, and it still feels like he’s falling, and Mitch’s laugh still makes his breath come in short, but what Auston forgets about last year was that he was happy despite it all.

This time around, Auston is still happy, but he forces himself to catalogue it, and to catalogue the weight of Mitch’s head on his shoulder when they’re frozen at the top of the wheel, looking out over the Christmas Market, no microphones or cameras, this time around.

*

Auston is attempting to grill, for some reason.

The reason is, actually, that Mitch had mentioned wanting burgers, and Auston had been in a good mood, so he’d thawed the ground beef in his freezer and had Mitch take the cover off his barbeque.

“It’s cold,” Mitch says, holding his bare arms as he watches Auston try to approximate something resembling a hamburger patty.

He shrugs. “You can borrow a sweatshirt, if you want.”

Mitch wordlessly goes inside, and by the time he emerges wearing a University of Arizona hoodie, Auston’s pretty sure that he has something to throw on the grill that won’t fall apart.

“My sister got that for me when she did a tour there,” Auston says, smiling.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it,” Mitch says.

“I actually do,” Auston says. “Mostly to sleep, though.”

“Explains why it was on your floor,” Mitch says, and then he puts the hood up, stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket, and watches Auston successfully flip the burger without it falling apart. He claps when Auston pumps a victorious fist in the air, throws an arm around his waist and cheers like it’s a celly, and Auston can smell Mitch’s shampoo mixed up in the hood of his sweatshirt. It’s a nice smell, he decides.

“I’d say this winter barbeque is a success,” Mitch says, taking a bite of the burger. It’s not very good, if Auston’s is anything to go by, but Auston’s pretty proud nonetheless.

“I’d believe it’s July 4th, if it wasn’t fucking freezing,” Auston says.

“I’d believe it’s July 1st,” Mitch says. “All we need is fireworks.”

*

Auston doesn’t get caught up in the wind, but Mitch does.

It’s not a day of good weather, by any means, but they’re going to watch a movie, and Mitch hadn’t had any popcorn at his place, and the 24-hour Shopper’s a few blocks away is the only place that’s open, so it’s the sort of late night lame adventure that Auston misses from his USNTDP days. It’s not really raining hard, but it’s windy as fuck, and right now they’re stopped at a crosswalk. There aren’t that many cars around, but Auston would rather wait until he feels safe and not chance jaywalking.

“Wow, okay,” Mitch says, as the wind blows his hood off. He brings it back up, then pulls at the drawstrings until only his nose is visible.

Auston laughs. “That’ll make it hard to look both ways before crossing the street.”

“You can guide me,” Mitch says, right as the light turns, and it’s probably a joke, but Auston grabs his hand and tugs him along anyway, not needing to be able to hear it to know that Mitch is laughing as hard as he is, splashing through the beginnings of puddles just because they’re both wearing rain boots, so they can.

“Happy?” Auston says, when they’re safely on the other curb.

“You’re the worst,” Mitch says, pulling his hood open and off to reveal a bright, happy smile.

Auston’s about to say something in return, but before he can, a particularly strong gust of wind blows; it’s the kind of thing even Auston has to work to resist, even though he’s pretty immovable, but Mitch is like a reed, going with it to not break. It pushes Mitch right into Auston’s chest, and right now, this doesn’t feel quite real, with the grumbling whistle of the wind making it feel like they’re alone. Mitch leans, tucks his face into Auston’s neck like Auston is some sort of windbreak, and Auston wraps his arms around Mitch to offer him protection that they both know he doesn’t need, but that he maybe wants, if the way he breathes in deeply against Auston is any indication.

It’s close, too close, but Auston knows that the wind will die down, soon, and that the moment will shift to some kind of awkward conclusion, so for now, Auston just breathes in, squeezes Mitch as Mitch squeezes back.

 

So, Auston doesn’t get caught up in anything. The roar of wind gets softer until it disappears, after a few seconds, and all that’s left is two boys standing too close, with messy hair and remnants of a shared moment that they can both choose to forget, if they let it go fast enough.

Auston does let go, but not all the way, just enough so that he can look at Mitch’s face.

“I’ve never really gotten the appeal of windswept hair,” Auston says, and Mitch’s eyes go very wide for a second, before he lets out a surprised laugh.

“Me neither,” he says. “You just look fucking dumb.”

“So do you,” Auston says, smiling too wide. There’s no real excuse for it, the same way there’s no real excuse for the way he hasn’t let go of Mitch, or the way Mitch hasn’t let go of him, or the way he runs a hand through Mitch’s hair. It’s good, though, because Auston doesn’t need an excuse, and doesn’t want one, either. Auston doesn’t want this chalked up to something incidental.

There’s nothing pushing or pulling at Auston when he kisses Mitch, no wind or snow or rain or sunshine, nothing special about any of it besides the fact that it’s the two of them, and Auston’s choosing this moment, when neither of them is caught up in anything but each other.

Mitch kisses back. Auston’s not terribly surprised by it, but it still feels like a victory.

“What was that for?” Mitch asks, his mouth barely moving away from Auston’s.

“Just something I wanted to do,” Auston says, and then he adds, “Something I’ve wanted to do for a while.”

“Good,” Mitch says. “You should do it again, then.”

“Trust me, I plan to,” Auston laughs, but he doesn’t right then, just grabs Mitch’s hand and doesn’t let go for a long time.

*

Some people say Mitch Marner is sunshine, but if you ask Auston, he has more in common with the cool, artificial light of the rink. Sunlight is great, and it can be special on special days, but Mitch is more controlled, more constant, a more steady spot of brightness. 

Auston can’t tell if he loves Mitch between the special moments, or if Mitch makes every moment special, is what he’s trying to say.

It doesn’t matter either way, he figures, because the main thing is that he loves him always.


	2. podfic (for ftchocoholic)

**[download link](http://www.mediafire.com/file/f44az4bwz2740cn/constant%20as.mp3) **

**Size** 14MB 

 **Length** 15:03

 

ft. "Case of You" by Joni Mitchell and "April Come She Will" by Simon and Garfunkel, recorded as a birthday gift for ftc, who's a great beta, statistician, and friend. Going up a few days late, but I hope you like this nonetheless <3 I love you a lot, bud. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> it's a trying time of year, figured everyone could use something nice and gentle. 
> 
> this probably has typos b/c i wrote it in like an hour but in my defense it's been a very Soft Auston™ day and i have a final tomorrow and needed to get out some feelings


End file.
